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New Year’s Eve.
Formal gala.
Micro-com in his ear.
Steve felt like he had no business being at the gala, but vague threats had been made against Pepper, so of course all the main Avengers were there to help protect her. There had been no question about it, even if none of the men felt as comfortable in their tuxes as Tony did.
Beside him, Bucky twitched a fraction and glanced down at his metal digits. If Steve felt uncomfortable in his formal wear, it was nothing compared to the taut stature Bucky currently kept as he watched the dance floor. His stance seemed relaxed and casual as his eyes scanned the room, but Steve knew better. Bucky tried to argue for a post up above on one of the balconies, but Clint was already in the security blind, hidden from view. He might have been the better long-range and trick shot, but this was straight-forward and Clint’s eyesight was the better of the two.
Bucky was a fearsome fighter hand-to-hand, particularly with his arm, but that same arm was the reason he felt so out of his element right now. He’d bemoaned the ridiculousness of custom tailoring a tux to fit around it, and balked when his trademark glove had been banned as inappropriate to his outfit. Instead Tony had fitted a temporary set of grips to the length of his fingers, thumb and palm that were only visible if he extended his hand to someone face up. Steve could see the begrudging appreciation for the less-cumbersome grips in Bucky’s eyes, but also the feeling of being too exposed for New York’s elite to see and judge him.
Steve’s heart ached for Bucky, and also for himself. Bucky still didn’t remember how they were before the war. Or maybe he did and just couldn’t go there with Steve now. Either way, he had yet to broach the subject, and Bruce had advised Steve to allow Bucky to do so at his own pace and on his own terms. Steve could do that for Bucky. Of course he could.
But it hurt. It almost hurt more than thinking Bucky was dead, which was rotten. It felt selfish and shallow to Steve, but he missed Bucky’s touch so much, especially watching couple dancing close and enjoying the night. He missed the way Bucky’s face used to light up when he’d dance with girls in town. He’d be so flushed and happy, and that giddy air would carry over to how he’d be with Steve when they finally got home to closed doors and a bed that was too small.
A pained chuckle almost bubbled up in Steve’s throat when he tried to imagine them both trying to fit into that bed now.
Out on the dance floor, the song ended, and a smiling Thor lead Jane toward them.
“My friends, could we get you a drink? It seems as though you could use one.”
“Yes,” Bucky muttered gratefully, but Steve perked up suddenly.
“Y’know…? If it would be okay with you, Thor, could I ask for a dance with Jane?”
Thor didn’t hide his surprise, but he did tamp it down when he glanced at Bucky. Steve deeply appreciated Thor’s perception of people, and his ability to see beyond the surface. He didn’t exactly need that uncanny sense of anyone to see the sharp look Bucky cast Steve’s direction. It made Steve’s gut flip about when Bucky’s lips pursed and he returned his gaze to the dancefloor. Maybe something was there. Maybe it was trying to take root again. God, he hoped so.
“I take no issue with it, but my friend, it is not my call.”
“Of course,” Jane smiled warmly. Thor nodded to them amiably, and excused himself to go find clean glasses worth of his Asgardian hooch.
“Actually, I was asking for Bucky.”
Jane’s eyes flickered with surprise that mirrored Bucky’s shocked expression. His eyes narrowed at Steve, who feigned total obliviousness. Jane however, was not going to play along with Steve’s faux ignorance.
“I would love to… if that’s what Bucky wants-”
“He doesn’t,” Bucky snapped, but he immediately softened his tone to one of respect as he addressed Jane. “I mean... dancing’s not really my thing.”
Steve was about to argue, but Jane quickly cut him off. “That’s okay, Bucky. I’m going to go sit down while Thor gets those drinks, but… if you change your mind, please let me know.”
Once she was out of earshot, Bucky scowled at Steve. “What the fuck, Rogers?”
“You used to love to dance-”
“I used to do a lot of things,” Bucky hissed under his breath. “Light a cigarette, toss a gal around my back, carry crates, carry your scrawny ass… all with two arms that were both mine-”
“That arm is yours,” Steve argued softly. “As much a part of you as Tony’s suits are part of him.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t play stupid, Steve.”
“I’m not. I just want to see you do something you used to love to do. I want it to make you smile again,” Steve pleaded, keeping his expression mostly neutral except for the kicked-puppy look that used to work so well on Bucky.
“Things change sometimes, Steve,” he grunted, hardening his eyes. “And we’re still technically on a mission right now.”
“So is Thor, but they enjoyed a dance,” Steve dismissed and rounded on Bucky to lock eyes with him. “Look… you gave up seventy years, Buck. Seven minutes for a spin around the dance floor is nothing. Go ask Jane to dance.”
Bucky glanced down again and Steve huffed softly. He took off the white gloves he wore and pulled one over Bucky’s prosthetic before he could protest. He held the other one out.
“Seven minutes for seventy years. Just let go and be happy for a few minutes.”
Bucky seemed to realize Steve wasn’t going to back down this time. His shoulders slumped a little and he snatched the glove from Steve. The subtle tremor in his hand didn’t go unnoticed, but if he trusted anyone to know how to cope with that nervous anxiety, it was Jane.
His breath caught as Bucky shyly asked Jane to dance, then released gratefully when the two stepped onto the dance floor. Bucky was obviously worried, but his steps were precise and smooth. Steve knew dancing was still just as natural to Bucky as it had ever been, but he’d been worried about Bucky getting in his own way. Jane was quietly talking to Bucky though, and it was visibly helping. Bucky’s head wasn’t held as high as it used to be, but he was relaxing into the flow of the music. Steve couldn’t be more proud until something Jane said caused Bucky’s eyes to sharpen, then mist. She just smiled reassuringly when he shook his head at her, and the next thing she said made Bucky’s gaze flicker to Steve for a split second. Bucky softly chewed at his lip, then his mouth formed the words “I don’t know.”
Steve was dying to be nosy.
In his ear though, Clint’s voice piped up.
“So apparently the threats against Pepper were red herrings to get us here. They thought us being all here together would clear their path to Tony’s vibranium reserve. T’Challa was right.”
“Has it been dealt with?” Steve asked, concerned about the vibranium being compromised.
“Yep,” Clint answered. Movement above caught Steve’s eye as the archer moved from the observation box to the shadows of the balcony. “Not a moment too soon, either. I gotta take a monster piss.”
“Intel I didn’t need,” Steve grimaced. On the floor, Bucky was looking more wistful by the second. When the song ended, and he returned to stand by Steve, it was clear he was struggling with something.
“What is it, Buck?”
“Nothin’ Steve. I’m fine.” He jerked his head toward the vacant box above them. “Where’d Clint go?”
“Threats were a ruse to get us away from the vibranium. T’Challa dealt with it.” Steve eyed Bucky’s expression for a few weighty moments, then decided he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Buck… talk to me. Please?”
Bucky looked down, blinking rapidly as he pulled the pristinely white gloves from his hands. His voice was barely audible as he responded.
“I know you say I’m not tainted… and I got nothin’ to atone for…” Steve held his breath as Bucky took one deep into his lungs and frowned while he held the gloves out. “I know you say things are different now… but I don’t think people wanna see Captain America like that… I guess I was just wishing that part of our lives could be different-”
Steve didn’t give Bucky a chance to finish, or a chance for himself to think about anything. He grabbed Bucky’s left hand and strode toward the dance floor. The danger had passed, and this was precious and long overdue. Bucky’s eyes were enormous as Steve pulled him close to dance a slow waltz. Thank God dancing was so ingrained in Bucky, otherwise they would have been a train wreck, because Steve could barely concentrate past the beating of his heart in his ears. Bucky just stared up at him, utterly speechless and maybe a little terrified. Maybe horrified.
But he wasn’t pulling away. In fact, he was gripping Steve’s hand and waist like his life depended upon it.
Maybe it did.
When soft gasps echoed around them as Steve gently touched his lips to Bucky’s, Steve knew that his life depended upon it just as much.
Steve was going to make sure Bucky knew he would always be Steve's priority, and that he would always have Steve's heart. They could deal with the press and the public later. Tonight would be theirs alone.
“Happy New Year, Buck,” he whispered.
Bucky didn’t argue that it wasn’t midnight yet as a tear slipped silently down his cheek. He didn’t say anything as he pulled Steve back down to kiss him, cupping his face tenderly with the metal hand he was so loathe to show just minutes earlier.
It was finally a new beginning. Finally a real beginning.